Page 148 of Petite Fleur

She'd never trust me again if I did that, and I already know I'm pushing my luck by giving her that necklace with a tracker in it.

But I can confidently say that I didn't do that because I didn't trust her; I did it because I don't trust anyone else.

She's too beautiful, too bright, and too kind. I can't be the only person to notice that, and I will not lose her to some twisted fuck who thinks they can steal what's mine.

I rush through my call and head back upstairs to Maeve so I can sit with her while she rests. I figure I'll wake her up before I leave, tell her the news, and help her get situated in bed before I go.

Maybe I should wait to tell her until I get home; that way, I can make love to her after I tell her the news.

No, I can't keep this from her. It's her body, she deserves to know, but fuck, I feel a deep sense of pride as I stare down at my girl.

She's slightly curled up on the couch under a small throw blanket, and I've moved her head to lie on my thigh instead of the couch pillow.

I never thought I'd deserve anything good.

I never thought I'd feel anything other than hate and this painful, overwhelming numbness that I feel for everyone but my girl.

But staring down at Maeve, knowing she's carrying my baby, fills me with so much love that I feel warm and fuzzy.

Have I ever felt this before?

Happiness, I mean.

I don't know if I've ever looked at another person and felt at home. I don't know if I've ever met someone that I wasn't sure I could live without, not before her.

Certainly not after her, not that there will be an after her.

There will only ever be Maeve and then death. When she goes, if she happens to go before me, she will drag me with her, and I will happily accept my fate because no existence is worth living without her.

I may have killed the man I should have been when I killed my mother, but I think he would've ended up in the same place that I'm in right now.

I think he'd be just as infatuated with my girl as me, watching her sleep on his thigh with his baby in her womb.

All she's missing is my last name, but that will come soon enough.

I find myself distracted as I admire my girl and how submissive she's become. She evolved from fighting me on everything, including food, to seeking me out for comfort.

It makes me feel silly to think back and remember that I almost didn't pursue her at all, thinking that my world was too dark for her, but even if she hasn't stepped into my darkness, she embraces it.

She welcomes my dark side and doesn't shy away from the real me.

I needed that. I needed a little toy who wouldn't run and hide under the bed whenever I needed a release. I needed her not to fear who I am and what I do, and fuck, I am so proud of her that she does.

My girl, my sweet, sweet girl who cried over a dog's broken nail doesn't bat an eye when I light a man on fire or superglue their mouth shut.

Fuck, I love her more and more every single moment that I am with her.

The moments that we’re apart, I yearn for her; I ache to be surrounded by her smell, her warmth, and her charm.

When Maeve stirs on my lap, I realize that I've let this nap go on for far too long and that I have to leave soon, so I slowly trace my knuckles down the side of her smooth, tan face. “Ma petite fleur, I only need you to wake up for a moment, okay?” I ask quietly.

My girl grumbles quietly and curls into herself more, resting her forehead against my stomach as she does so while an almost incoherent “no” comes out of her mouth.

I don't know how I feel about waking her from a dead sleep only to drop a bomb on her and then abandon her.

That's not exactly fair to her.

I've had time to digest this and be near her; meanwhile, I'd be basically flipping her entire world, breaking it off its axis, and abandoning her to feel it alone.